Eyes Tell Stories But do they know how to craft fiction? Do they know how to spin lies? His eyes swear forever, flatter with vows of only me. But are they empty promises? I stare into his eyes, as into a crystal ball, but I cannot find forever, only movies of yesterday, a sketchbook of today, dreams of a shared tomorrow. His eyes whisper secrets. But are they truths or fairy tales? I wonder if even he knows.

I can't change what has happened in the past, Kaeleigh. I can only promise to make the future better.

‎Perfect? How can you define a word without concrete meaning?

Maybe Life is random. No fate. No God. Just Time.

He has built a pedestal for her so tall that she is afraid to be lifted atop it, because to fall would mean certain death. But oh, she would rise far, far beyond fear and be held by arms so strong, and love so pure, that falling would not be an option.

Detailed descriptions, abstract ambitions, relevant observations, your's and mine.

Certain of misfire, my heart threatens to stop.